Conversations Harm and Mac never had
by 2AM
Summary: 0% Angst, 100% Friend-shippy fluff... just a few conversations that never happened on the show, that i'd liked to have seen. I'm back with chapter 7: Cup-cakes, dinosaurs, birthdays and other catastrophes! Have fun reading  and reviewing ;o
1. Shoeshopaholics anonymous

Conversations Harm and Mac never had

Disclaimer: I do not own JAG, I don't make money writing this fic.

Warnings: shameless fluff and probably bad dialogues, some innuendo (if I can manage to write it)

Rating:

Pairings: H/M; mostly Pre-ship, third chapter should be shippy

AN: to get myself out of all the angst-riddenness that I seem to have fallen into, I set this little challenge to myself, also this will help me practice writing dialogues (which I hate, because somehow it always ends up sounding unnatural and stilted). Hopefully this'll work out anyway. I'd really appreciate some constructive criticism on my writing style though (read: many reviews pleeeeaaase!). One more thing... I recently thought about what I remember from early JAG seasons (before the writers went nuts and when Harm and Mac were still friends *rollseyes*) and it seems to me they actually didn't spent much time together in their off hours. So this will (hopefully) answer another question I asked myself: what are Harm and Macs' hobbies (besides dinosaurs and airplanes)?

**Conversations Harm and Mac never had**

1. Shoe-Shopaholics Anonymous or "I'm not addicted I'm just on a never-ending quest for comfortable shoes"

(Harm's POV)

When I run into her at the mall, Sarah MacKenzie is carrying several bags with various labels on them, and looks like she needs a coffee break. So I invite her to that tiny, dark café at the other end of the mall that I know she loves best. She sits down with a sigh and says, "Every time I go on a shopping spree I swear it's the last one, but somehow it never is."

"Mac, the only way you'll ever manage to give up shopping is with the help of a ten-step program and weekly group-sessions at _Shoe-Shopaholics Anonymous_." The pouty, annoyed look she gives me, tells me that this is perfect teasing material.

"I am _not_ addicted to shoe-shopping, Harm, I'm just on a never-ending quest for comfortable shoes. Do you have _any_ idea how much pain can be caused by a pair of ill-fitting low heels?"

"If they don't fit, why do you buy them? You've got to have at least three pairs of new shoes in those bags and I'd bet my next paycheck that there's not a single pair of comfortable shoes among them." By now my words are dripping with smug, but that's okay, because Mac knows I find her little shoe-fetish adorable.

"Of course there are no comfortable shoes in there! It's not like I can wear sneakers to Kelley's wedding, and I couldn't wear them to the Nato-Ball either!"

"Kelley's wedding...? Didn't you go to 'Kelley's wedding' a couple of months ago?"

"Mhmm." Mac takes a sip of her Cappuccino, suddenly she's tranquility personified. "That was in August. She got divorced three months ago and is now getting married to her lawyer."

For a moment I want to ask her how she can talk so calmly about people casually marrying and then casually getting divorced. Especially since we've talked about this before and I got the impression that Mac had a surprisingly conservative view on the topic. Then I see the tiny hint of a smirk she's trying to hide from me with her cup and her game is up.

"You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

She grins at me and nods. "Yep! My friend _Cailleigh_ got married in August and my _other_ friend Kelley is getting married next weekend."

"Then I suppose there is a matching dress to at least one pair of your new heels in one of those bags?"

"Unfortunately not. I haven't found one yet."

And with that my suspension of disbelieve hits a dead end. "Please, correct me if I'm wrong... but I always thought women got the dress first, followed by necessary new tiny little handbag that doesn't have enough room for your equally tiny cell and your car keys, followed by _matching_ shoes."

"Well, yeah... that's female SOP." She admits.

"You realize that that means you _didn't_ get shoes for the wedding! You just got _another_pair of uncomfortable shoes you are never going to wear... How can you possibly say you're not addicted to shoe-shopping?"

She frowns at me. "Haaarm... I am NOT addicted to shoe-shopping. I really _needed_ that pair of shoes. They looked cute and they kinda fit, and I might just find the perfect dress to go along with them and..." Apparently watching my face for approval of the BS coming out of her mouth isn't helping her confidence. She stops for a moment, thinks about what she just said and adds, "Okay... maybe you're right and I really didn't need those but still... I am not addicted to shoe-shopping."

"Lame, Councilor, very lame. The jury has come to a decision. The jury finds you guilty of a secret shoe-shopping addiction. You are sentenced to one year of supervised shopping-trips. You are further sentenced..." I know I'm declaring war... and enjoy every second of it.

"Because your one to talk Mr. Pot. If I were to list all of your addictions and obsessions we'd be sitting here for a while!"

"Oh, really?" I ask. She takes a deep breath... and the game is on.

The end

AN: so... reviews, please... I've got two more chapters finished and ideas for another 2 or 3 after those, problem is that university is about to start and they might not get written till my next vacation sometime in December...


	2. phone sex

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

AN: So here's the second chapter, have fun reading it... this time it's Mac's POV and unfortunately it's even shorter than the last one... as always you make my muse extremely happy by feeding it reviews and help me to become a better writer by telling me what I did wrong *shamelessly-putting-readers-on-guilt-trip-for-not-reviewing*

2. Phone-sex or "It's not fraternization if I don't get to touch her" 

(Mac's POV)

"Harm, do you think I could use idiocy as a defense strategy?" I ask while looking over the notes I made during my interview with Sergeant Conway this morning. I swear that marine has cotton candy where other people have brains.

"Why would you wanna do that?" In front of my inner eye I can see the frown on his face as he says that.

"Because Sergeant Conway is without doubt one of the biggest idiots among the members of the male persuasion."

"Dare I ask why you think so?" Now he's grinning.

"Because 'It's not fraternization if I don't get to touch her' is an excuse only a male could ever come up with." I say with faked frustration.

"You're kidding."

"Am not!"

"That's his defense? Really?"

"Yes!"

"Okay then... how exactly _did_ they fraternize, if they didn't get to touch each other?"

"Phone sex."

He chokes at that and I giggle. I can't help it. It's stupid and, knowing Harm, he thinks so too.

"Phone sex? During the life and times of the internet, faked IDs, Motels and so on the only thing they came up with was phone sex?"

"That's what Conway says, I haven't talked to Corporal Miller, yet, and even if she says the same..."

"You wouldn't believe them?" He adds an extra dose of disbelieve to his voice.

"Harmon Rabb Jr! Are you trying to tell me, that you would be able to sustain a relationship with someone by having phone sex and nothing but phone sex?"

"No, I'm just riling you up, while you're far away in Norfolk, with no way to shoot me."

"Careful, Squid, I happen to have friends in DC who would gladly shoot you for me!"

"Yeah, whatever..." He pauses and I just know that the next thing he says is going to be completely inappropriate even though I can't put my finger on why I'm so sure about that. "So, Mac, what are you wearing?"

For a second I manage to keep a menacing silence... then I burst out laughing at him, just like he expects me to. When I've got my breathing back under control I pull out my bedroom-voice from where I put it into permanent storage in my brain and ask, "Do you really want to know, Sailor?"


	3. Questionmarks

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

AN: this one is finally shippy... in a "we're screwed" kind of way. Again sorry about the shortness but somehow it seemed finished to me, even if it is short.

Warning: You are about to enter the Territory of the dangerous, wild and untamable "AU" ;) ... seriously... this wouldn't work with some of the canon info on Mac, but I've been wanting to write something like it for a while... so for the sake of this fic... Mac was never addicted to alcohol... now have fun and don't forget to review!

3. ? or "So... what the heck happened and do you wanna talk about it?" 

(Harm's POV)

My. Head. Hurts.

Someone moans. Was that me? I moan. No, was someone else. Wait... What... Okay... Now we're in trouble.

"Mac?"

No answer. "Maaac?"

"Shhhut up, Harm."

Frown. "What? Mac, don't you..."

"I'm trying not to die here, Squid, so do you mind cutting it already!"

That was surprisingly forceful for someone who's 'trying not to die' on my favorite sheets, in my very own bed, in my (yours truly) apartment.

"What the..."

Looks like Mac finally caught on to it, too.

"Harm?"

"Yes?"

"What the heck am I doing in your bed?"

The look of horror on her face would be funny, if this wasn't my bed with me and her in it. Naked.

"I'm not sure. I don't remember anything after the second round in the third bar."

She moans and buries her head in the pillow. "This didn't happen. I'm having a nightmare. I did so not sleep with my partner. I did not sleep with my best friend. I'm about to wake up..."

"Mac what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to block you, and all the stupid things you make me do, out."

"Right. So I take it you don't want to talk about this?" I can't help but feel a little angry about that. This is Mac after all.

Silence. Then she sighs and looks up at me.

"Can we talk about this _after_ my hangover's gone?"

That actually sounds like a good idea. "Sure. You mind if I go back to sleeping mine off?"

"No."

I keep my eyes open for a moment longer than I really want to, and get rewarded by a view of Sarah MacKenzie's naked back as she turns around and lays her head down onto the pillow to go back to sleep. A moment later her breathing evens out and my brain reminds me that following her example might just be a great idea. So I close my eyes, and try to get some more rest. I guess we'll talk some other time. Maybe during my next life. When my head has stopped pounding.

The end...

AN: next one's gonna be a bit longer... promise!


	4. Dogs

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Thanks for all the reviews... special thanks to shaneequa who i can't write a message

AN: okay... I hope this is as funny as it sounded in my head, even if it didn't really turn out the way I hoped it would.

Also if you have any prompts or ideas for future conversations you can tell me in a review or send me a PM... I'm having trouble coming up with new topics.

Dogs or "You really think the Admiral looks like Pluto?" 

(Mac's POV)

"Would you rather be... a dog or a cat?"

It's after midnight and Harm and I are still working hard on our new case. It's one of the biggies. A boxes-full-of-files very-little-time media-circus-included accused-is-related-to-brass kind of case. We have been sitting in my apartment for hours and we'll probably be at it for some time before we'll go to bed... well, before _I_ go to bed and Harm crashes on the couch.

We have been playing 'would you rather' intermittently for the better part of the evening. It's my fault, after all no one forced me to tell Harm about Chloe's antics on the phone this afternoon. I look up from the file I'm reading and say, "If I had a good owner, one who took me for looong walks, let me run free, never hit me and so on, I'd say a dog. If my owner was horrible, definitely a cat, better chances of running away and making it in the wild. What about you?"

"I guess, I'd be a dog." He replies thoughtfully.

"Really? What kind?"

He hesitates for a moment and I am about to add something including the words 'small' and 'yappy' when he finally grins and says, "Some kind of big working dog. Like a German Shepherd."

I mock-frown at him. "I don't think so. In fact, German Shepherd seems more like the Admiral's kind of Dog-Identity, if you know what I mean. You'd probably be something like a whippet."

"A whippet? What the heck is a whippet?"

"Oh, you know, a thin, neurotic speed-junky." At this point I am not even trying to hide my smirk, even though I know the conversation is about to get ugly.

"Whatever you say, Pug." Literally ugly, apparently.

I sigh. "Okay, seriously? I don't really think you'd make a good German Shepherd, _but_ I can imagine you as a Siberian Husky or maybe an Alaskan Malamute... They're independent, strong and don't really do very well with authority, also they come with blue eyes." I bat my eyelashes at him to emphasize this extremely important point in my argumentation.

"Oh, right, because eye color is definitely a very important part of one's dog personality."

"Maybe not, but your authority issues must be addressed and German Shepherds are generally known to be very obedient."

"And that's why the Admiral would never make a good German Shepherd." Harm retorts. "He may hide it well, but the reason I don't get into trouble half the time for ignoring orders is because that's exactly what he'd do if he were in my place. No, if the beauty-and-the-beast-fairy ever turns the Admiral into a dog, he's gonna emerge as a bloodhound."

"A bloodhound? You really think the Admiral looks like Pluto?" I ask incredulously.

He rolls his eyes. "I stand by my choice. By the way, what kind of dog would you be?"

Hmmm, good question. "I don't know. I'll have to think about that." I pause for dramatic effect. "_After_ I finish reading this file." To illustrate my point I lift it of the table and wave it in front of Harm's face.

"Okay, okay, I get it, no more interruptions."

We work for a couple of minutes but Harm's stupid question keeps distracting me. Finally I look up at him again and ask, "Do you think I'd make a good Irish Setter?"

He starts chuckling. "Only if you dye your hair red."

"Okay, Flyboy, what about a Gordon setter then?"

"Nope, not elegant enough. You'd probably be an Afghan Hound or some other sight hound. It'd even go with your temper. Sensitive and high-strung."

My jaw drops. "I'll give you high-strung!" With that I grab my file and hit him over the head with it, before I make my way to the bedroom. If I can't come up with a decent come-back within the first 20 seconds of one of my favorite squid's annoying comments, then I am definitely too tired to work on a case. "I am going to bed, Whippet, have fun cleaning up."

"Sleep tight, Pug, and please try to keep the snoring to a minimum, I have very _sensitive_ ears."

... Damn him!

The end

AN2: If any of you own any of the mentioned breeds, I'd like you to know that I am not serious about any negative thing I might have written about said breed. I love dogs of all kinds, shapes, sizes and breeds... so please don't flame me.

AN3: I was planning on bringing up other characters and likening them to dog breeds, but I got the feeling that it got boring after I got this far, so I dropped it. For the record: I think Harriet would make an excellent Havanese (especially a crème colored one), Bud would be some sort of Jack Russel mix (the mix part being something slightly less (hyper)-active than a Jack Russel), and Gunny would probably be something like a Rhodesian ridgeback. For Singer I don't know whether to go with small and yappy or middle-sized and dangerous. And I really don't remember enough about Tiner to find a fitting breed for him.


	5. Phobia

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own JAG

Warnings: contains general silliness, OOC behavior and a spider

AN: I just couldn't resist the mental picture of Mac being scared for a typical girly reason... and Harm coming to the rescue of course ;) DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW AND PLEEEEEEASE don't make me beg ;)

Phobia or "Spiderman must die!" 

"Eek." I somehow manage to keep the extremely girlish shriek from passing my lips... well mostly.

The door to my office bursts open and my white-knight-in-shining-navy-summer-uniform looks around for some kind of danger that might have befallen my not-so-damsel-in-distress self.

"You okay, Mac?"

"Umm..." Oh... no you don't, no-no-no no no. I jump out of my seat and back away to the window while I keep staring at the disgustingly disgusting thing that is slowly crawling down my office wall, getting closer and closer to my desk.

"Mac? Maaac? Are you alright?"

"No... no-no-no, no," I want to move towards the door but unfortunately my body seems to be frozen.

"Mac, what's ..." he finally turns sideways and discovers the eight-legged menace that is crawling towards me. "Um... Mac... you are not seriously scared of spiders, are you?"

Deep breaths, Sarah, deep breaths you can survive this, it's gonna stop crawling in just a second, it's gonna turn around, it's not going to touch you...

"DON'T TOUCH IT!"

Harm has taken a step forward, probably to remove Spiderman (who surprisingly stopped crawling) from my office... with his bare hands... the thought of his hands touching the thing makes me feel queasy.

"You want to get rid of it... don't you?" That sounds reasonable. Huh, interesting, I had no idea that Harm has such a thing as a 'voice of reason'. Normally I am the one who has to point out the obviously reasonable things... of course my powers of strategic and analytical thinking are currently AWOL.

"Yes... but even more than that I don't want to faint right here in the office, so if there is any other way of getting the thing out of here... oh no... no... no-no-no-no-no..." The looooong black legs are moving again.

Swat.

And suddenly the itsy-bitsy spider on my wall is a squashed black puddle with twitching little things sticking out of it. A squashed black puddle that I watch in horrified fascination for all off two seconds before everything around me becomes black. I wait for the painful moment when my body connects with the floor but it never comes. Instead I feel something warm around me before I completely black out.

When I wake up I am lying on the couch in Admiral Chegwidden's office. I can hear excited voices talking somewhere close by. When I turn my head I see that Harriet, the Admiral and Harm are standing over by the desk discussing my condition. What exactly happened to me? Oh right, I fainted after an encounter with the spider that ate the JAG HQ, well, actually I fainted after Harm swatted it dead with the file in his hands... gotta make sure to avoid anything to do with the Watson Case.

"We should really get her to the hospital, Sirs, it could be something serious." Harriet says in her mother-hen-voice.

The look on the Admiral's face indicates that he agrees, but Harm jumps in before my CO can voice his concern, "Look, Lieutenant, she probably just forgot to eat and is low on blood sugar, I think we should just wait until she wakes up and... see, she's already awake again." He comes over. "How are you feeling, Mac? Dizzy? Did you have lunch?"

I blink at him. He's letting it slide. The perfect opportunity to embarrass me in front of everyone who's important to me... and he's letting it slide. "Um... I'm fine, little dizzy and no I didn't have lunch. Did I... er..."

"Collapse? Yeah, you did." With that he turns back to the other two, "See, nothing to worry about, I'll take her home, get her some lunch, by tomorrow morning she'll be just fine."

I can see that Chegwidden is suspicious but apparently he decides to let it go for now. Harm helps me to get up from the couch and follows me out into the bullpen.

"I already took care of the thing that made you faint, so unless you are too deeply traumatized it should be safe for you to go back into your office and collect your things." He whispers in my ear while he gently guides me towards the crime scene and a cartoon version of a newspaper with "Spiderman murdered" on the front page flashes through my brain.

"Right, no problem," I take a deep breath then I stride into the room to grab my cover and bag.

Once I am safely in his car ('You don't really believe that I'll let you drive with your low blood sugar, do you, Mac?') I allow myself to relax a little even though I know that he's about to start teasing me mercilessly about my up to now closely guarded secret... my horribly cliché'd arachnophobia.

"So, Mac, wanna go see 'Spiderman 2' with me this weekend?"

**The end **

AN2: I can not remember seeing a couch in Chegwidden's office (or anywhere else within JAG HQ) but for the sake of the story...

AN3: Don't forget to review! I have to read about 1000 pages of textbook and about 20 papers out of scientific journals... I'd much rather know whatever you have to say about this!


	6. Yoga

Disclaimer: see first chapter

AN: I guess it's obvious by now that I don't always use the sentences that are part of my chapter titles. I often have a vague idea where I want to go and sometimes the fic just decides to run the other way, at the end I suddenly realized the quote/sentence/idea that started it all isn't even mentioned. But since these lines are still part of what inspired me to write I like to leave them where they are.

AN2: Thanks to everybody who reviewed chapter 5, I really like knowing what you think... I am going to close this story for now, mostly because my muse has a serious crush on Jisbon/Jello (over in the mentalist fandom) and is therefor refusing to give me any JAG-related ideas, so for now this is the last chapter.. i may post new chapters if and when inspiration hits me again... until then thank you all so much for reading and reviewing these little one-shots.

Yoga or "If God wanted us to be pretzels he'd have made us with less bones!" 

(Harm's POV)

We are sitting in the conference room waiting for the rest of the gang to arrive so the staff meeting can start and Mac just gave me the perfect reason to needle her about her new hobby. There have, of course, been other opportunities in the last month, but none of them was as good as this one.

"Wait a minute..." Before I can finish my question Mac interrupts me.

"Look, Harm, it's not my fault. I told them Saturday morning wasn't a good time, but everybody else is fine with it, so I guess I'll just have to go then."

All of that spills out of her mouth at an incredible speed. She sounds exactly like I used to when I was trying to explain to my mom why I had nothing to do with the broken window/vase/breakable-thing. "But..."

"Don't worry, it's just this one week. Next week it's gonna be back to Sunday afternoon and we can go on our morning run again." Now she sounds like she's talking to a four year old.

"Mac..."

"Haaarm, what is your problem?" And now she's livid.

"If you'd stop interrupting me for a second I might just tell you!" Wow... I finally got more than three words out.

"Ooookay... sorry 'bout that. I'm just a little stressed out right now. For some reason people seem to enjoy shuffling my precariously timed schedule around this week."

"Mac, my 'problem' has nothing to do with you preferring to meet with a group of middle aged ladies to turn yourself into a pretzel over going for a run with your good-looking, charming, interesting, hot best friend." Mac looks like she's going to interrupt me, but I'm not quite done, yet. "Really, I'm fine. If you'd rather listen to Frieda and Hilde discussing the correct handling of false teeth, while doing unspeakable things to your body, I'm all for it. I might get valuable advice from you when I'm 80 and need a set of false teeth of my own." I watch with glee as Miss Devil Dog sucks in an indignant breath of air. The moment she opens her mouth to protest, yell or probably scream in frustration I go on. "I just don't understand why it is so important for you to turn yourself into a pretzel in the first place."

By now most of the others have appeared. Mattoni and Caroline are sitting across from me, obviously enjoying the show. Bud, who just sat down next to Mac, looks worried. Harriet on the other hand definitely shares my amusement. Thankfully the Admiral isn't here, yet.

Mac takes a deep breath, looks straight at me and says, "Let's just say, that I have never met a guy who complained about having a bendable... versatile... girlfriend, and leave it at that."

While I am still busy blinking, and trying to get the inappropriate thoughts about my partner out of my head everybody jumps to their feet, then quickly aborts the gesture, when Chegwidden signals us to be at ease.

He starts speaking but I am still in my happy little Mac-and-Yoga induced paradise world.

"..., Commander?"

"Ah... I'm sorry, what was that, Sir?" Damn, there is a reason why I avoid certain topics around Mac. Now I'm in trouble.

"Am I boring you, Rabb?" That growl could probably scare an angry pit bull into submission.

"No, Sir, I'm sorry, Sir, it's not gonna happen again, Sir."

"Damn right, it wont, unless you want to spent the next year upgrading computers and handling traffic violations..." And with that threat he channels his concentration over to Mattoni and the Henderson Court Martial.

When I turn my head towards Mac, she puts her legal pad close enough for me to read a set of fresh hieroglyphics.

_Three 'Sir's in one sentence, Flyboy? I had no idea I joined the Naval Academy, when I came here ;) _

Rolling my eyes I grab the pad.

_You realize that if this were the Naval Academy, you'd probably be my girlfriend, right? _

Nothing nettles Mac as much as my arrogance.

_Well... at least you'd have a very flexible (!) girlfriend then. _

Hmm. Maybe I really should get some counseling about those self-destructive tendencies of mine. It can't possibly be healthy to walk willingly into the same ambush twice within 2 minutes.

"..., Commander?"

Forget self-destructive. Try suicidal.

I'm a dead man.

The end


	7. Cup Cakes

Title: Conversations Harm and Mac never had, Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Chapter 1

Pairings: H/M pre-ship (?)

Warnings: None (fluff, banter and happiness ahead)

Rating: K+ (because I'm careful)

Spoilers: None

AN: I am baaaaaaack... though I am just writing this because I can't focus on my new big JAG Project (Teaser: Working title is 'Icarus' and I hope to finish it before UNI starts next Monday) because my family is watching "Hero" starring Dustin Hoffman in the other room and our vacation home has really thin walls. But I really need to finish something (I have started so much stuff that I haven't finished... it's really frustrating) and I recently re-watched 2x1 (we the people) and there was a line that caught my attention.

AN.5: thanks to _michi uk_ and _marye 904_ who reviewed the last chapter!

An.6: all mistakes are mine... I don't mind if you point them out ;)

Cup-cakes – or "I never thought of dinosaurs playing." (Harm in 2x1 'We the people')

Mac was sitting in her office fighting the on-coming depression. It was her birthday. Again. That day always came round too early. She was alone (well, not right now, she was still in her office at JAG and people were busy bustling around in the bullpen, but there was no one waiting for her at her apartment so...). Again. She still hadn't found a guy called Mr. Right (she was sure she'd settle for Mr. Mostly-Right or Mr. Close-to-Perfection or maybe even Mr. Mediocre-and-normal by now, but even they had eluded her so far). Again. And she still didn't have a house, a wedding band, a baby or a dog. Even though the dog was something she certainly could get for herself if she ever decided she had enough time for one (which she wouldn't).

Mac sighed. At least no one had found out or cared to remember her birthday. She preferred to ignore the dreaded day as much as possible and was relieved when her colleagues and friends did the same thing. She realized that she had once again gotten distracted and tried to focus on the paperwork on her desk, but immediately felt appalled by the boringness it radiated. Just when she was about to get up for a fresh cup of coffee she heard a knock on her door.

"Enter."

The door opened and Harm stuck his head in. "Hey there, devil dog. How's your day going?"

Mac blinked for a moment surprised by how cheerful he sounded even though she knew he had at least as much paper work to do as she had and hated it even more than her. Maybe... "Don't tell me the admiral had mercy on you and handed you an actual case?"

Harm frowned but didn't come into her office. "Now why would you think that?"

"Um... let me see... We have all of this _lovely_ paper work to do and you are _happy_? In fact, I should probably go for a stronger word... you're cheerful... chipper... one might even call you... _annoying_!" Her exasperation served only to amuse him. "Stop grinning like an idiot, unless you want me to come over there and slam my office door in your face!"

Harm laughed. "You sure are in a bad mood, Mac. What happened?" He finally entered her office, putting a cup of heavenly smelling coffee on her desk and handing her a double chocolate cup-cake with pink icing on top. "Someone important forget your birthday?"

Mac rolled her eyes. "How did _you_ find out?"

"Bud mentioned it last week. Hilarious, since he obviously forgot about it today, when it was actually important." He was still grinning at her.

Mac decided not to honor his remark with an answer and instead took a sip of her coffee. "Hmmm. Just the way I like it." She murmured keeping her eyes closed.

"After working with you for over two years you still expect me to make your coffee the wrong way?"

Mac opened her eyes, a devious gleam sparkling brightly inside them. "Not on purpose."

"Oh, come on, Mac. That was one single time. I hadn't slept in almost 36 hours, had a really bad case of the flu and the admiral -"

"Harm!" She held up her hand in a placating gesture. "I'm just teasing. Why were you bringing me coffee anyway, when you were feeling so bad?"

"Because _you_ hadn't slept in 48 hours and you were the one who gave me the flu and if you hadn't passed out right after complaining about my coffee-making abilities you'd probably remember something else about that incident than the fact that the coffee wasn't up to your personal standard of perfection."

Mac grimaced. "I knew there was a reason I chose not to remember any of that." She picked up the cup-cake. "From the bakery around the corner?"

"Nope." Harm shook his head. "That coffee shop in Georgetown that probably puts out a red carpet for their most loyal customer whenever you turn up."

"You bought me one of Millie's cup-cakes?" A very un-Marine-ish amount of excitement crept into her voice.

Harm nodded. "Uh-huh. I was gonna put a candle on it, then I realized that you'd probably shoot me if I spilled your little secret to the rest of the guys so I didn't."

Mac took a bite and sighed. "I'm not gonna argue with you, no matter how much you try to goad me, not while I'm eating the heavenly cup-cake."

Harm grinned in delight. "Really?"

"Really."

"Huh... I guess I should buy you cup-cakes more often then. Are you sure you're not going to -"

"Yes." She took another bite, slowly chewing it, allowing the rich chocolate flavor to caress her taste buds.

"So if I give you your present now, you'll take it without giving me the 'You shouldn't have' speech and once you open it you won't fight with me about whether you're going to keep it or not?"

Mac frowned. "Harm."

"Yes?"

"Don't spoil my cup-cake experience!"

"Right." He got up. "Listen, the admiral just sent Bud and me on an investigation to Norfolk so..."

"What?" Mac almost wasted a perfectly good piece of chocolate-heaven by choking on it. "You're going on an investigation without me?"

"Not my idea, Mac. I did ask. Chegwidden said you were needed here, didn't say for what and, frankly I was too scared to ask. Where was I... right, Bud and I are leaving for Norfolk in... um..." he checked his watch. "Three minutes. So... happy birthday, have a good day for the rest of the day, the surprise party starts at O-five-hundred sharp and... I hope you like your present. I'll see you whenever Bud and I get back." With that he turned and walked towards the door.

"Whoa, wait a second, HARM!"

He stopped and turned back to look at her. "I'm already late, Mac."

"Since when do you care about being late?"

"Well,..."

"Surprise party?"

"Then again maybe it didn't slip Bud's mind." Harm winked at her. "And just for your information... I had absolutely nothing to do with that!"

Mac snorted, then she smiled at him. "Bye, Harm. Have a good trip and try not to get shot or something!"

He grinned. "Will do... Well, will try."

Mac rolled her eyes at him. "Go."

"Bye." She watched as he got out and closed the door before sinking back in her chair, savoring the last piece of her birthday cup-cake before getting back to her paper work.

By the time she noticed the wrapped package sitting in her visitors' chair she had almost finished the stack of reports on her latest cases. She frowned for a moment, wondering how Harm had managed to sneak it in here simultaneously with the coffee and cup-cake combo. Then she got up and gently placed it on her desk, before she slowly undid the paper. Instead of the book she was half expecting she found a rectangular box. Lifting the lid she had to suppress a girlish squeal. Inside was a small oil painting that had most likely been intended for a nursery. It showed several kinds of dinosaurs that were undoubtedly _playing_ with each other in front of a tropical beach background. She couldn't believe that he remembered a conversation that had happened so long ago and had had so little significance at the time.

"Wherever did he find this?" she wondered out loud. Mac picked up her cell phone and started texting.

_You know when you're not busy being a jerk, or being reckless, or irresponsible, or really annoying you can occasionally be quite nice__, M. _

_P.S. Love the present. Where did you find it? _

A couple of minutes later she looked up from reviewing a file when she heard the phone beep.

_Was there a compliment in there somewhere? I thought there was, but somehow I'm not sure. Mind if I ask Bud for his opinion? H._

_P.S. I'm not telling you that, do you realize how unromantic that would be? _

Mac frowned.

_Sorry, flyboy, I didn't realize you were t__rying to romance me. *Sarcasm on* How about you give me a call sometime in your next life when you're actually serious about that *Sarcasm off* M. _

Twenty minutes later Mac absent-mindedly picked up her phone. "MacKenzie."

"How serious am I supposed to be?"

"Excuse me?"

"Hi, Mac. Mind putting that file away for a second."

"Actually I do. I just got to the interesting part." She joked.

"Yeah, right. Which one would that be? The one where I am court-martialed for sexual harassment of a fellow officer or the one where you agree to go on a date with me?"

Mac bit her lower lip in confusion. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"I was worried I might not get to meet you in my next life, with the world being a big place and the six billion people living on it and what not." He was joking. Obviously.

Mac sighed. "Harm-"

"Do you have plans for Friday night?" His voice sounded dead serious.

"Well, no... but-"

"Then would you like to go to dinner with me?"

"Um... yes, I'd love to." She couldn't stop a silly grin appearing on her face.

"Seven-thirty. I'll pick you up. Wear something nice."

"Will do."

"Good. I'll see you sometime tomorrow. Bye, Mac..."

xxx

"Mac. Maaac. Maa-haac!"

"Wha?" Mac slowly opened her eyes.

"We're back." Harm looked at her from across the driver's seat.

"Back where?" She felt disorientated.

"Back at JAG."

As she looked around the car her memories came back. Her uncelebrated and mostly ignored birthday that had been spent at Norfolk investigating a charge of petty theft, the traffic hold-ups on the way back and the after effects of the flu, that had most likely caused her to fall asleep during the ride back all came back to her in their glaring mundane-ness (her slightly dizzy brain reminded her that that wasn't _actually_ a word, but since she wasn't _actually_ speaking she decided to ignore it).

"Right." Mac closed her eyes again, feeling as miserable as when she had gotten out of bed in the morning.

"How about I give you a ride back home? You're in no condition to drive." Harm sounded concerned.

For a moment Mac considered trying to talk him out of it. Then her headache and the possibility of falling asleep during the ride home and dreaming about Harm taking care of her convinced her otherwise.

"'Kay." She allowed her head to fall back against the head rest and her body to relax as much as it could in the uncomfortable car seat. "Night, Harm."

Somewhere far away she heard him chuckle. "Good night, Mac... and sweet dreams."

**The end**

I'd like to point out that any out of character-ness in this one _can_ be explained by the fact that it was all a flu-induced dream! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it (and I really did enjoy it after all the frustration my other fic is inducing!). I'd be really happy if you left me a review...


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